Broken Minds
by agent-to-the-rescue
Summary: A collection of several Kingdom Hearts characters and their mental illnesses. Schizophrenia, Anorexia, Depression, Social anxiety disorded, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Maybe even Dissociative identity disorder if I get around to it.
1. Aripiprazole: First Dose

**A/N: Heyy, this is the revised version of chapter 1. This series was originally meant to be a set of one shots… But then I decided to tie them all in together and expand the series. Aripiprazole is also known as Abilify which is an antipsychotic. Anyway, please enjoy and review! ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any KH characters.**

**Summary: There was no one to help me, because everyone was in on it, he told me I had to escape, and I agreed I needed to be free.**

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**Aripiprazole**

**First Dose**

I took a left, running for my life down the vast, white corridor. Then right, heading toward the doctor's offices. Right again, and then straight ahead. Struggling to navigate my way through the impossible maze of hallways that they had set up for me, it was not surprising that I managed to come to a dead end. Terrified, I stared up at the ominous wall which was blocking my only way to freedom. I started to panic. Was this it for me? Was there no was out? I looked around me, spinning around in a circle, hoping to find another way out. Or, at the very least, a room of which I can hide in. I glanced frantically at the solid wall that was still blocking my path. It did not look like it was going to budge any time soon. I was so scared. They were going to get me if I did not find a way to get out of here. I noticed a room coming off one off one of the walls in the hallway. The closed door, which did not seem to be locked, had a sign crudely glued to it. The slanted sign read 'Broom Closet'.

"Perfect." I muttered. I did not care about the contents of the room, so long as there was enough space for me to hide. I rushed to the door which was only a few steps in front of me, but as I reached for the handle, it started to melt away. I grasped the handle anyway, hoping that would stop it from disappearing. As I touched the metal, searing pain shot up my arm. I pulled my hand back quickly; the handle had burnt me! However, I tried to take no notice of the agony I felt as I watched the door become a puddle on the floor. It was the only place for me to hide, and it had melted!

I had tears in my eyes. Would I never be free? I collapsed to the ground, scared and praying the wall would disappear. Hoping, wishing, and praying. That was all I could do as I heard shouting echoing from the direction I had come. They were hot on my trail, and catching up quickly. I needed to get out of this place. If I stayed any longer, I would die, or worse, continue to be experimented on. The people behind the cameras that watched me so intently did nothing to help me. They did nothing to set me free, nothing to even help ease the pain of the poison in tablet form the 'doctors' were forcing me to digest day after day. Not that I expected them to help; they were part of the Organization.

Why was I living in this nightmare? What had I done to deserve this kind of torture? I knew that there were others like me in different parts of the facility because he had said so, but the only people I had met were in on it too. But I had to trust him, he had all the answers, and I had the power.

I turned around to look back at the brick wall. The wall had also melted (what is with _them_ building things that melt?) and was now red a puddle on the linoleum. I stared at the puddle.

_"Run!" _the voice of the invisible man shouted in my ear. I shook my head to try and clear my mind so I could focus on escaping. I got up, a little shaky, and bolted down the rest of the corridor. I was breathless, trying to take deep breaths. My heart was pumping; I could feel it throbbing, and hear blood rushing around in my ears. My bare feet ached from pounding on the chilly linoleum floor repeatedly. Beads of sweat dripped down my hot face, plastering strands of slate grey hair to my forehead. I had been running a lot, and I was starting to get tired. If I did not find a way out soon then I did not think I would be able to last much longer.

I checked behind me once again, searching for any sign of the enemy catching up. I could not see them, but I could hear them loud and clear, their shoes hitting the floor with force. It had taken them a few moments to realise I was missing, but they were faster than me, and could close the distance between us quite fast.

As I continued to search, I ran into something cold, hard and metallic. Had they set up another wall in my way? I rubbed my head and glanced at what I had ran into. It was a door. A green, glowing sign above it read "EXIT" in big letters. It was the emergency exit! I almost jumped for joy, excited that I had found my ticket out of this nightmare.

But lady luck was never on my side. I grasped the door handle and once again an extreme burning sensation scorched my hand. The pain was almost unbearable as the flesh and muscles were dripping off my bones. I screamed in excruciating agony, tears rolling down my cheeks quickly. I just could not take it anymore.

This was it. I'm getting out of here once and for all.

I punched my good hand through the glass window that was embedded in the upper half of the emergency door. The glass shattered into many pieces, cutting deep into my thin wrist, and blood seeped from the wound quickly. I pulled my arm away, and studied the crimson liquid. The blood dripped faster and faster, and I could feel myself becoming faint. I leant my back against the door and slid down onto the ground slowly.

I could hear voices in the distance, calling out for me. I waited for them to find me, their precious little experiment, lying in a pool of my own crimson blood.

"Zexion?" one of the doctors called out as I slumped over to the side. I could tell he was at the end of the hallway and had obviously seen me lying on the ground, bleeding. I heard him as he called out to the others for help and then rush toward me.

But it was too late. I started to fade, everything going dark, the light in my grey eyes slowly disappearing. I knew I was dying , and I did not mind. I smiled as I breathed my last breath. I did it.

I was finally free.

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**A/N: So, that's the first chapter revised. I based some of Zexion's logic on my own schizophrenic thought processes. Anyway, I hope you liked it, and I'm sorry it was so short. I promise that the next chapter is much longer ^_^**


	2. Phenylpropanolamine: First Dose

**A/N: Here is chapter 2 revised! The title of this chapter is apparently (according to the internet) some sort of laxative or diet pill. I thought that it was fitting considering the mental health issue this chapter deals with. So, please enjoy the chapter, and don't hate me for what happens! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any KH or FF chatacters.**

**Summary: I knew I needed to eat, because I required the energy it provided, but every time I looked in the mirror, all I could think was the word 'FAT'.**

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**Phenylpropanolamine**

**First Dose**

Sitting in a big metal bowl in the middle of the table was the food I was supposed to force down my throat tonight. The scent of spaghetti wafted through the air, surrounding the room and dancing past my nose gracefully, persuading me to fill my nostrils with the appealing smell. I wanted to eat the pasta, gobble it all down. It made my stomach rumble quietly, asking me to give in and eat something for a change. I stared at the edible substance, my emerald eyes narrowing in hopes I could shoot lasers out of them and destroy the food that tempted me so. It was mocking me, encouraging me. I could almost hear it saying silently "Eat me! Eat me!" I was so close to giving in and just having a small bite (which I knew would lead to more bites). But then I thought about how many fattening calories were in that delicious pasta, and I lost my appetite. I started to feel queasy as images of how I would look if I ate swarmed into my mind.

My parents watched me intensely, eyes glued to my disgusted expression. They were clearly waiting for me to spoon some of the food on to my plate and then to start eating said food. I knew that they suspected something was up with my eating habits. They rarely ever saw me eat anymore (probably because I only ate occasionally), and whenever I refused a meal, they eyes me suspiciously. However, still had no idea how little I was consuming. I did not want them to watch me, because I would rather they not worry about me. After all, I would prefer to not stress them out. And if I wanted to reach physical perfection, it was best they did not pay me any heed.

I pushed my clean plate away for me, shifting it so it was in the middle of the table next to the metal bowl. "I'm not hungry," I stated coolly, hoping they would not see through my ruse and realise I was actually starving. There was no way I could let myself eat anything tonight if I wanted to reach my goal weight by the end of week. Now that I think about it, I did have bacon and eggs for breakfast this morning. That means I still have all that fat in my system. I shuddered inwardly, disgusted with myself for letting that junk into my system. I would have to remember to purge when I got upstairs.

Mom grabbed my abandoned plate and started to shovel heaps of spaghetti on to it. I stared in horror; I hope she was not expecting me to eat all of that. I mean, no one could eat all of that! "Axel sweetie, you really do need to eat dinner," she told me, "Or else you won't grow up big and strong."

I did not point out the fact that I was already sixteen and taller than dad. Instead, I gave her a 'you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me' look. "Mom, I'm really not hungry. And besides, you can't expect me to eat all that!" I pointed to the plate in her hand.

Dad, who had been originally pretending the baby food he was feeding Reno was a train, looked at me and said, "You mother is right, son. You should have something, even a snack if you won't eat a proper meal. But please, we're worried about you; you haven't been eating much lately."

I scoffed. I _had_ been eating lately, too much in fact. I really needed to start eating less; otherwise I would never look perfect. But to make my parents happy, I got up and headed into the kitchen in search of a low calorie snack. I checked the fridge and searched through the pantry. "I'm gonna grab a quick bite if you're gonna keep nagging me, okay?" I called from the kitchen. I moved over to the fruit bowl and picked up a green apple. Eighty seven calories I would have to find a way to burn off quickly.

"That's fine, but we want to see you eat it in here." Mom ordered. I rolled my eyes, but I was really worried because I would actually have to eat the apple. I did not want to put another eight seven calories into my body, but it was either that or make my parents suspicious.

I walked back into the dining room which was connected to the kitchen. I tossed the apple in the air a few times before collapsing into my chair casually. My parents watch me, eyes burning though me, as I bit in to the apple with a loud 'crunch'. My eyes darted around the room, trying to find something interesting to fix my gaze on while I ate.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air which was only broken by the laughter of my brother. I desperately wanted to escape to my room as soon as possible so I could rid myself of the fat I was consuming. Scoffing the evil piece of fruit, I grinned at my parents. I got up and threw away core in the bin before heading up stairs to my bedroom.

My room was painted a dark red colour, and I mean a really rich, deep red colour. Painted over the red was a border of bright orange and yellow flames. The flames were not very good because I was a terrible painter. Plus I was ten when the wall was decorated. There was a desk in the corner furthest from the door. It was blue and slightly burnt, left over from when I was going through my fire starting phase. My parents had not got around to replacing it with a new one, but I only really used it as a dumping ground nowadays so I did not care. My double bed looked incredibly comfy to my tired eyes.

I wanted to sleep, but I did not think I would be able to keep still long enough to actually rest. So instead I chose to pace my room several billion times. Okay, not quite that many, but a lot nonetheless. I had nothing on my mind as I finished pacing, a little dizzy from going back and forth, and moved on to doing sit ups on the floor.

My back and my abdominal muscles were hurting from being worked quite hard. But I needed to exercise regularly or else the fat would cling to me and become harder to budge. I certainly did not want that happening. I kept going for a while, and then switched to push ups. This way I would be able to trim away my chubby arms.

Hearing a knock on my door, I quickly positioned myself so I looked like I was searching for something under the bed. "Come in," I said.

Mom poked her head through the door way before opening it wider and coming in to my room. "What are you doing?" she questioned.

"Trying to find my notebook," I lied smoothly.

She thought for a moment. "Oh, do you mean the red one with the gold stripe on the side? Because that's down stairs on the living room coffee table."

I smiled at her. "So that's where I left it!" I feigned relief.

Mom crossed the room slowly and sat on my bed. The thick cover creased where she sat and the mattress dipped in slightly. She patted the space beside her. She had left a lot of room for me to sit because I knew she thought I was huge. She was right. I looked like a blimp.

I took a seat next to her.

She fidgeted, playing with her thumbs. I could sense she had something important to say. "Axel, both your father and I feel that something is amiss with you. Are you sure there is nothing going on? Because you really haven't been eating much, and your looking so thin…" she trailed off.

Bullshit. I was as fat as ever. She was just lying to me so I would not be so driven to get thinner. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just not hungry. Maybe I'm coming down with something." If she thought I was coming down with something, then perhaps she would not suspect anything if she discovers me ridding myself of unnecessary calories.

She pressed a cool hand to my forehead, checking my temperature. My mom was one of those people who were good at checking if someone had a fever without using a thermometer. "You don't feel hot. But you might be right. Get some rest and see how you feel tomorrow." She kissed the top of my head, bid good night, and then left the room without another word.

I listened carefully until I was sure she had gone back downstairs, and then raced to the en suite attached to my room. I flung the door open, not bothering close it after I had entered. The cold tiles chilled my feet, but I did not take much notice. I was focused on the toilet (I know that sounds strange). Listening once more for the footsteps of incoming parents, I concluded that no one would appear any time soon.

I walked up to the toilet and knelt on the blue tile floor. My knees cracked, which kind of hurt a little. The lid was already up, so I leant over the toilet bowl. Taking a deep breath (I hated doing is) I stuck my fingers down my throat until I gagged. But it was not enough. I repeated my action, making todays meals come back up and in to the toilet. The taste of bile was strong in my mouth.

I made myself throw up once more before moving away and ripping off a couple of sheets of toilet paper. I wiped my mouth and chucked it in the toilet, flushing it and what used to be the contents of my stomach.

Taking another deep breath, I stood up slowly. I was quite dizzy by this point, the room was spinning slowly and I had to grab the sink next to the toilet to stop myself from falling. I hated to constantly have to vomit like that because I was too weak to resist food. I would rather use laxatives because that way I did not have to taste semi-digested food. But laxatives were not as effective at cleansing my body of the impurities, and if I was going to binge then I needed to be properly cleansed.

I prayed my mom and dad had not heard the gagging sounds I had made. Although mom would just think I was sick, I still did not want them to bother me.

Turning on the cold water, I picked up the small glass that was by the faucet. I filled it with icy water and then sipped it, swishing the liquid around my mouth before spiting it out into the sink. I did the same thing a few more times, trying to get rid of the bile flavour. I turned off the tap when I was done and stepped back, being careful not to move too fast.

I was normal for me to feel dizzy when I had finished throwing up. But I was also starting to feel weak and shaky. Still hungry, I craved something to eat. I just wanted a small bite to nibble on. But I could not give in that easily.

I pulled the scales out of the little cupboard under the sink. Placing them on the ground gently, hoping that if I treated them with care, they would treat me well too. Closing my eyes, I stepped onto the surface. I waited a moment or two before looking down at the little digital numbers on the tiny screen. I went into a state of shock. Somehow I had gained quite a bit since yesterday. How could this happen? Was it the bacon? Or was it the eggs?

I needed to be thinner, so I opted to cut my hair. I know; my amazingly long, fiery red hair which liked to stick up in all directions. I was going to cut it off. But I had to lose weight. I opened the top drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors that I did not even know were there (So why I chose to open that drawer I will never know).

Scissors in hand, I grasped a chunk of my hair and snipped it all off. I let it fall to the floor before moving on to the next clump. I kept cutting, staring in the mirror intently with a slight frown on my face. It was not until I was done that I looked into the mirror and realised what a terrible job I had done. I wondered why I had done that, but then muttered, "I'll be thinner."

I jumped back on to the scales which were still sitting on the tile floor. Once again I closed my eyes, waited, and then looked at the number. It was .1 less than before. Not enough.

I still felt fat. I needed to lose the kilos I had gained, and vomiting and cutting my hair was not enough to satisfy me. I had read on the internet that a cold shower was enough to help shed some weight. It would be freezing, but I could cope. I would do anything to be thin.

Stripping of my baggy clothes, which were not actually baggy, just too big, I placed them in a neat pile on top of the clothes hamper which was situated in the corner of the room. I then carefully stepped into the shower (which was also the bath) and turned on the water, almost turning on the hot but remember at the last second that this was meant to be a cold shower.

I brushed my hands along my body, feeling all the bones, but also feeling the fat that was still lingering. I felt the way my collarbone stuck out and smiled. I was getting there slowly. However, not quick enough. I ran my fingers along each rib, counting them. I could feel most of them, but not all. I touched my stomach and then pinched the fat that was situated there. For me, it was the hardest place to lose weight. Nothing would move it. I glared down at my stomach. "I hate you. Go away. You're the reason I look so big." I squeezed the fat, as if to squash it away, whilst inwardly begging it to disappear.

A strong wave of light-headedness washed over me. I wobbled on the spot, and took a step back to steady myself. Suddenly, I felt ill. Quite ill. Almost like I was going to be sick (without it being on purpose). My vision started to go black, as if a dark cloud had consumed my emerald eyes. Closing them, I willed the dizziness to go away. But I realised it was no use as my legs gave way and I fell backwards. Something hard hit my head, causing pain to shoot throughout me. My eyes, which had opened when I fell, were now slowly closing. I tried to fight the unconsciousness. However, I lost when I gave in, allowing myself to be taken into the depths of sleep.

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**A/N: Please don't hate me for making him cut his amazing hair! I'm not a monster, honest. Anyway (God, I really say that a lot) thank you for reading chapter 2. Please review ^_^**


	3. Fluoxetine: First Dose

**A/N: Here is the third one-shot in the Broken Minds series. This time it's about depression. The title, Fluox****e****tine, is actually Prozac which is an anti-depressant. ****Also, I was originally planning to have these chapters as a series of one-shots, but I now have chosen to tie them in together some way. Ready to watch me fail? Lol. ****Anyway, enjoy the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Demyx, or Axel, ****or Aerith, or Yuffie.**

**Summary: Emptiness. That's what I felt in my heart. I knew I was broken. Why was I still alive?**

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**Fluoxetine**

The silence hung heavily in the air, weighing down on my sobbing frame. The moonlight that shone through the crack between the white curtains, danced gracefully across my cold unused bed. Shadows stretched across the floor and up the walls, hitting the ceiling and coating it in its menacing essence.

I was sitting under the window sill, staring at my arms. Deep, crisscrossing lines had been sliced into my tanned flesh repeatedly in many directions. I ran my fingers over them, feeling the raised scars, and a sense of satisfaction washed over me. Some of the lighter scars were from years back, when I had started out self-harming because of the crushing depression that had taken over my body. Others were more recent, still healing, cut a few days ago when I had been allowed to go home for the long weekend. But most important were the wounds that were still bleeding after the blade I stole from home had kissed my skin several times tonight.

I was fortunate enough that I got on really well with the nurse that was supposed to check me for sharp objects. I managed to convince her that I did not have a blade, or pocket knife, or anything like that. I would have thought she would have examined my arms for any cuts, but she did not do that either. It was so easy to prove I was getting better. The nurses were sure I would be able to check out of the psychiatric ward soon. But they were wrong. I was far from fine.

I sighed. I needed more pain, so I knew I could still feel. I needed to know that my heart was beating, that I was still alive. The incisions I made moments ago were not enough to prove I was part of the living. I craved more scars.

Getting up quietly, I crept over to the shelf that was up against one of the walls in my assigned room. I had to make sure I was as silent as possible so I did not attract the attention of the nurses. I picked up one of the books that were stacked on top of my homework that I was supposed to have completed by now. It was a blue book with many pages. There was no way I was ever going to read a book this thick, so I knew that my razor would be safe between the pages. I flipped the pages until I reached the middle of the novel, and took out the blade. I marvelled at its dull shine and rusted corners. It was the denial of my doubts, and the culprit of my addiction.

I placed the book down and walked across the room into the bathroom that joined on to the room. I pulled the handle and it closed behind me with a 'click'. I leant on the half tiled, half painted wall and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, and without looking, dragged the blade down my arm. The sting the metal brought with it was refreshing. I studied my arm where the crimson blood was oozing from the newly formed wound. The pain proved to me that I could still feel, and the blood showed that my heart was still beating.

But then the sadness took over, and my eyes started to tear up. My vision started to get blurry and salty water rolled down my face. I began to mutter to myself.

"Why am I still alive?"

_Slash_

"Why have I not been able to kill myself?"

_Slash_

"Why can't I cut deeper?"  
_Slash_

"I WANT TO DIE!"

I started to sob loudly and continued to tear up my arm. But by now the nurse had already heard my outburst and came rushing into the room. I was too upset to notice much, but I felt the blade being taken out of my hand. I also felt the nurse clean and wrap my arm with a bandage.

"Demyx, calm down." The nurse ordered.

I looked up to see Nurse Gainsborough looking at me sternly. I tried to calm down, taking slow deep breaths and focusing on Nurse Gainsborough.

She sighed, an expression of disappointment on her face. "I thought I could trust you when you said you didn't have a razor blade. You know what this means, don't you?"

I nodded weakly. This meant I would be kept in sight of the watchful nurses at all times, and checked more thoroughly for anything I could use to hurt myself.

She helped me up once I was feeling better and guided me to my bed. I hopped on to the bed and pulled the blanket over me, shutting my eyes and trying to get to sleep.

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The next morning I woke up in a bit of a daze. My arm was still throbbing from the self-harming I did last night. I got out of bed slowly and stretched my back, arms and legs. My thoughts drifted to the book I used to conceal my blade, and I found myself stumbling across the room to the shelf. Picking up the blue novel, I noticed something sticking out of the pages. I pulled it out and examined it; it was a note from Nurse Gainsborough. It was short and simple, but not very helpful. It read: _Demyx, I once stood where you stand. Don't give up; you can get through this_ :) _– Aerith Gainsborough_

It was nice of her to write such a note in an attempt to reassure me, but it did not work. Everyone is different, so just because she did not give up does not mean I will conquer this illness before it kills me. And you know what? Maybe I do not want to get better. Maybe I want it to kill me.

There was a knock on my open door. "Demyx, how is your arm?" Nurse Gainsborough asked kindly.

"Still hurts a little." Holding up the note I added, "Thanks for the note."

She smiled. "I hope it helps to see that others can recover from this, which means you can too."

I grinned back. Nurse Gainsborough left the room and I trailed after her, heading toward the dining hall. She and I walked down the main corridor. She was wearing neat casual clothes, and her hair was tied up with a pink ribbon like it normally was. I, on the other hand, was dressed in the starch white t-shirt and pants that we patients were required to wear, and my hair was a messy bedhead version of my usual mullet-hawk.

As we arrived at our destination, I noticed there was a new face among our small group. He appeared to be slightly taller than me, with bright red hair that look like it had been cut by the barber from hell. His emerald eyes met mine and he grinned. Waltzing over too me, he stuck out his hand. "Hey, I'm Axel. Got it memorized?" he chuckled.

I shook his hand. "Demyx." I replied, a little weary.

His cat like grin widened. "So, what are you in the loony bin for?"

"Err…" I was taken aback. We were not really allowed to talk about those sorts of things. And besides, directly asking someone why they were a basket case was just rude. "Suicide attempt." I responded anyway.

"I'm here 'cause I collapsed. They think I have anorexia or bulimia or something like that. But that's a load of crap. Personally, I think I need to lose more weight. I mean, seriously, look at this!" He lifted up his top a little and grabbed at his stomach. He started pinching the 'fat', but in reality there was no fat on his body to pinch.

"Boys, breakfast!" Yuffie, one of the other nurses who insisted we call her by her first name, called out to Axel and I. The redhead visibly paled, his skin going white.

"It'll be okay." I muttered, putting a hand on his back and pushing him gently in the direction of the table.

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**A/N: Well, that's chapter 3 done. See how I included Axel in it? There shall be more characters in the next one, I hope. Anyway, let me know if you liked it, and also let me know if this was a good place to end the chapter. Thanks for reading ^_^**


	4. Alprazolam: First Dose

**A/N: Huzzah! This chatper is finally posted! I like the word huzzah, lol. The title of this chapter is a benzodiazepine better known as Xanax. I wanna say a big thank you to Xainagal as she has helped me a lot with this chapter by supplying me with information on Social Anxiety Disorder. This chapter is dedicated to you Xainagal!**

**Anyway, please enjoy the chapter ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Demyx, Naminé, Larxene, Saix, Axel, Zexion, Yuffie, Roxas and Aerith.**

**Summary: I wanted to speak up, I really did. But anxiety got in the way and now I just cannot allow myself to be heard. **

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**Alprazolam**

A porcelain plate was placed on the plastic table in front of me. I glanced at the food, and then looked up to watch everyone's reaction to the bacon and eggs we were expected to eat. Saix and Larxene practically attacked their food, shovelling it down their throats as quickly as possible. It was almost as if there was an unspoken bet had been wagered between the two as to who could finish first. If I was not afraid of drawing attention to myself, I probably would have laughed.

Shifting my gaze to Demyx, I noticed he had his eyes closed and was humming a tune as he munched on a strip of bacon. I recognized the tune; it was the 'I love bacon and eggs' song he always sang when we had this particular meal. He had a big smile on his face, but I noticed he had a bandage wrapped around one of his arms. I want to ask him what happened, but if he says it is nothing then he will think I am rude for intruding, or maybe he will think I am stupid for thinking that something was up. So I am not going to question him about the bandage, even though I am worried.

Looking over at Roxas, I realised he had not started eating yet. He repeatedly moved his hand toward the fork as if to pick it up, but then moved it away quickly before he even touched the metal utensil. He was probably thinking about all the unknown germs that were on the fork, but it was obvious he was trying to change that thought process so he could eat.

Finally, I focused my attention on Axel who was pushing his food around on the plate. His skin was still quite pale from when the word breakfast was mentioned not too long ago. His eyes were narrowed like he was trying to get rid of the food by shooting lasers out of his eyes. Or maybe he was planning something. It amazes me that Axel could be so friendly and animated, and get on so well with everyone in the ward even though he has only been here a few hours.

There is no way someone like me could be like that. I remember my first few weeks in the psychiatric ward; I would not talk to anyone or participate in group activities. Instead, I would stay in my room and draw picture after picture. I have improved since then, even though I still refuse to talk to anyone. And I have not gotten over my fear of saying something that makes me look stupid or offending someone, or even being judged by what I say.

Returning to the meal, I made sure I did not look up again as I nibbled on the piece of toast. After all, I did not want anyone to engage me in conversation because I really did not want to make a fool out of myself. So I just sat there eating as some of the other patients at the table discussed various inane topics.

One topic that did come up, however, that had been on everyone's mind at some point, was Zexion. No one had asked if he was still alive. Larxene does not care one bit, Saix is indifferent, Demyx confided in me that he was envious that Zexion had the guts to kill himself, Roxas was freaking out about the germs Zexion's blood might contain, and I refused to speak. That is why it is just assumed he had died.

"Crazy little fucker that one." Larxene giggled sadistically. "Perhaps he's better off dead."

I shot her a glare. It was not nice to talk about him like that, even if his rumoured death was for better or worse.

She noticed me and smirked. "Aww, little miss mute want to defend her boyfriend. Listen up Naminé, did ya ever think that he was so fucked up that death was probably the better option for him?" I glared some more. "If you don't agree you better speak up now ~" she sang tauntingly.

She knew there was no way I was going to speak up, even if it was in Zexion's (Who is _not_ my boyfriend) defence. But part of me wanted to talk, just to prove to Larxene I am not a mute, and also to tell her no one deserves to die. I have to say something, just this once.

"I…d…d…" I stuttered. I could feel the panic starting to take over my body as all eyes turned to me. My breaths became shorter and quicker, and my palms became clammy. Many thoughts of how I could look like an idiot and how I could be judged ran through my head, reminding me that it was probably better to not let my voice be heard. I looked down, defeated.

Larxene laughed a cruel, high-pitched laugh as I tried to sink further into the chair. "Just as I thought, you don't really care. You're just a stupid, horrible little girl." She laughed again, Saix joining in this time.

I glanced at my hands which I had only now just noticed were clawing at my arms because of the enormous amount of anxiety I was feeling. Tears formed, making my sight blurry. I blinked and the salty liquid started to fall down my face and onto my lap. My body heaved as I sobbed. I was just so sick of the fear, why could I not just stop being afraid? I started to breathe even faster, and I started to get dizzy. I was beginning to have a panic attack.

I heard Demyx, who was sitting closest to me, get up and kneel down next to me. He started to rub circles in my back, trying to calm me. "Cheer up Nam, Larxene is just a bitch." He soothed. I looked up at him.

Larxene stood up suddenly, rage written all over her face. "You bastard! How dare you call me a bitch!"

Saix chuckled. "He's right, you know. You are a bitch."

"Don't agree with him!" She screeched at Saix, picking up her knife and fork and trying to stab him with it. The nurses, Yuffie and Ms. Gainsborough, chose now to intervene and rushed over to take the cutlery away from the enraged Larxene who was shouting strings of curses.

As Demyx continued to reassure me, I could feel myself become more agitated. I started wondering if Demyx was just saying those kind words so I would get over it and he can get away from me, or if maybe he thought I really was stupid and horrible.

"Okay, I think it's time you all go to your rooms and get ready for art therapy which is in twenty minutes." Yuffie announced.

Demyx gave me a quick hug and said to me, "If you ever want to talk, you can talk to me, 'kay?"

I nodded and he smiled and walked off. It was strange seeing him happy and cheerful, considering he suffered from depression. Although I think it is a misconception that people with depression never smile.

I got off my chair and headed to my room. I was still in my pyjamas so I had to take a shower and change into my day clothes. We were allowed to wear any type of pyjamas when we slept, but after breakfast we were expected to have changed into our day clothes; white T-shirt and white pants. It was so we did not wear anything revealing or offensive. But I hated wearing pants. I would much rather wear a dress or skirt.

Entering my room, I closed the door behind me and looked around the room. My sketch pad and coloured pencils were sitting beside my bed, and my pile of books were still sitting on the little shelf that was propped up against the wall opposite my bed.

Going over to the cupboard whose door was always ajar; I opened it wider and took out some clean clothes.

I strode over to the bathroom that was attached to the room, closed the door, and hopped into the shower.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later I walked down the corridor to the art therapy room, sketch pad and pencils pressed against my chest. I always took my sketch pad everywhere; it was like a security blanket. I found that just knowing I could go off into my artistic world whenever situations were causing me anxiety was comforting.

Roxas, Axel and Demyx were already waiting by the door. They were chatting amongst themselves. I did not want them to start talking to me, so I kept my distance. They continued to talk for a minute or two, and then Axel looked past Demyx and straight at me.

"Hey Naminé. Who could beat up the spaghetti monster quicker? Batman or Spiderman?" Axel asked me.

Demyx turned and smiled kindly at me, "You don't have to answer if you don't wanna talk."

I thought for a moment about the question, and then came up with an answer. I held up one finger and Axel nodded. I was amazed that I had it in me to actually answer that, and even more amazed that I did not seem to worry about being judged by my answer. And then came the question I was dreading.

"Why?" Roxas asked simply, clicking his fingers on one hand seven times before repeating the action with the other hand.

Oh no! What if they thought my reasoning was stupid? Then they would think I'm stupid. And what if my answer is pointless to them and I just end up wasting their time.

"It's okay Nam." Demyx reassured, using the nickname he had randomly given me a few days after I had entered the ward.

I started to repeat the words "Everything will be okay. They won't judge me." I took a pencil out of my pencil tin and opened my sketch book to a clean crisp page. I started to hastily draw Batman's car, the Batmobile. Yes, that was my reasoning, Batman had a cool car and Spiderman did not.

I finished the drawing and held it up for the others to see. Thankfully I didn't have to explain because Axel said, "Oh yeah, I didn't think of that. Guess Batman wins." And with that, they went back to talking with each other.

I watched them out of the corner of my eye. Axel and Demyx were exaggerating their gestures as they spoke. But Roxas just stood there, ridged, clicking his fingers quickly. Something was wrong.

Demyx noticed Roxas' distress and ask, "Rox, are you okay?"

I heard Roxas murmur my name quietly, and then he said something along the lines of "she okay?"

Demyx and Axel looked at me, perplexed, and then back at Roxas. "Yeah, she's fine. What's going on?" said Axel.

Roxas fell to the floor, one hand was still clicking, the other was tapping violently on the wall. Seven taps, seven clicks, seven taps, seven clicks. He also starter to whisper "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," over and over again.

"R…R…Roxas? What's wrong?" I said in a small voice. I covered my mouth as soon as I had spoken. That was the first time I had ever said anything to anyone in the psychiatric ward. My anxiety levels started to rise, my heart started to beat faster, my breaths became shorter, I started to shake, and my palms started to sweat. I should not have said anything. They are going to think I'm a horrible, nosy person. They will never talk to me again. I should not have said anything. I should have just kept quiet.

I was practically in tears because I knew they were going to judge me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Still looking at Roxas, I noticed he had gotten up and was coming toward me. I was terrified of the interaction I was about to face. So I did the only thing I could do.

I ran.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so that's the end of the chapter. I hoped you liked it, and I hope I was able to correctly portray the thinking of someone who has Social Anxiety Disorder. But if I over did it, just let me know.**


	5. Aripiprazole: Second Dose

**A/N: Yay, chapter 5! Sorry it took me so long to write… I just sorta didn't know how to write it, y'know? I was also waiting to be in the right mood to write. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. ^_^ **

**Note: Chapters 1 and 2 have been rewritten, so feel free to read them again if you want. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any KH characters. At all.**

* * *

**Aripiprazole**

**Second dose**

The sound of something beeping rang in my ears. It was annoying, aggravating, maddening, and however else you would describe the noise that was drilling its way into my skull slowly. I was on verge of hitting it so the blasted thing would shut up. In fact, I probably would have destroyed it by now if it were not for the drowsiness that was lingering in my mind, and the stabbing pain I felt in my arms every time I tried to move them.

"_Should have been more successful in dying, then you wouldn't feel a thing." _His smooth, charismatic voice laughed. I sat up quickly, opening my eyes wide, and looked over my shoulder. I could not see him. I could never see him, but he was always there, guiding me and supplying me with the information that I so desperately needed. _"Don't you remember? I'll never let you see me, you stupid fuck."_

I sighed, I was sick of hearing his voice, I really was. Especially considering that, as far as I was concerned, he was just an invisible man. Well, not entirely invisible. He had once told me that he was a real person, working with a society of people who were trying to combat the organization that were experimenting and watching me. And, although that sounds bizarre, I knew it was true, because I knew that there were people watching my every move.

That was the reason that, despite his lack of physical presence constant derogatory words, I still needed him because he was the one that held all the answers as to how I could fight back and save myself from genetic mutation, drug testing, and god knows what else.

The downside to his 'invisibility' was that I was not able to prove to anyone that my 'delusions', as they had been dubbed, were _very_ real. I tried to explain, I drew a picture of the symbol of the organization intent on testing me, but not even Demyx believed me. The blond kept reassuring me that 'It was just my mind playing tricks,' and 'once I get better everything will be fine." But how could my experiences from that past three years all be a lie? It does not make sense.

I leant back against the almost completely upright end of the hospital bed and stared up at the ceiling, arms still stinging from when I bolted upright a few moments ago. I began to count the little squares that were stuck to the white ceiling whilst thinking about how I was going to escape from this retched place. It felt like, at the rate I was going, I was going to be here for the rest of my life. Well, not in the same ward because once I turned eighteen I would be moved to the adult psychiatric ward.

I had been living in the ward for a year now because my 'delusions' had not lifted, even after being put on the 'medication'.

"_Maybe you should go along with their expectations. Then when you're released from the prison they're keeping you in, you will be able to better prepare yourself to take down the Organization," _he explained.

He was right. But I had already tried to do what the nurses and psychiatrists wanted me to do to no avail. "It didn't work last time, so it probably won't work this time." I mutter quietly in the hopes that no one would over hear our conversation (Or should I say _my_ conversation, considering no one else seemed hear him.)

He chuckled mockingly, _"That's because you weren't trying hard enough. You need to actually take the 'medication'. I know the pills are dangerous, but sometimes one needs to make sacrifices in order to survive. Although now that I think about it, you probably should attempt to kill yourself again. After all, you're so pathetic; you might as well die, you fucked-up waste of space." _He laughed loud and haughtily in my ear.

I was sick to death of his constant insults. I wanted to hurt him, to kill him. But at the same time, I really did need him to keep feeding me the information. How else would I defeat the Organization? However, his last insult had really pissed me off. I knew it was true, that I was a 'fucked-up waste of space', but I really did not want to be reminded of that fact.

"Shut up. Why do you always help me and then turn around and hurt me. I don't care if what you say is true! And why can I hear but not see you? JUST GO THE FUCK AWAY!" I cried at the top of my voice, ignoring the stares from the patients either side of me.

One of the nurses, startled by my sudden outburst, rushed over to my bed. "Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked, annoyance evident in her voice. Her tired eyes flickered over some of the other patients, probably hoping they were not bothered by my shouting. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear before covering her mouth, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

My eyes narrowed as she moved to fix my pillow which was attempting to fall off the bed. "Fine," I mumbled coldly. I really did not want to talk to her. She was just another minion of the Organization. Anything I say might be used against me.

When she walked away, I shifted my gaze back to the squares on the ceiling, once more counting. Only this time I was intent on not letting my thoughts wander.

After a few minutes of counting (I got up to 120) I heard a female voice say, "I see you are awake." I recognised the voice. It belonged to my psychiatrist, Tifa Lockhart. I hated that woman with a passion. She clearly worked for the Organization, but lucky for her (and not so much for me) she had been given the power to administer drugs that may or may not alter my genetic makeup.

I looked over at Ms Lockhart. She was wearing a white doctor's coat, like always. And her black hair, which usually flowed down her back, was uncharacteristically tied up in a high ponytail. Her big brown eyes were locked on to my face, taking in my hate-filled glare. She had a bright, cheery I'm-not-affected-by-Monday-mornings expression on her face.

I groaned loudly. I really did not want to converse with her today. I was tempted to tell her to 'fuck off', but I knew that would not get me anywhere.

The brunette smiled a big eyes closed grin, like the sort of smiles anime characters have. "I have good news." She clapped her hands together, "You can go back to the ward. The doctors say your arms have healed enough."

Apparently my physiotherapy I had had to get strength back into my arms had been going well. I glared at the stupid minion that claimed to be a psychiatrist. She knew very well that I hated being trapped in that hellhole. Was she mocking me, perhaps? "Really? That's wonderful," I commented sarcastically.

She chuckled and handed me some white clothes. "Here are your clothes. I'll give you a minute to change, and then I'll take you back to the ward."

I stared at the fabric in my hand. I never noticed until now that the white was not white, but instead a slight yellow colour. It was almost cream but not quite. I sighed and nodded. I decided that fighting them would not work in my favour, and that obeying the doctors and showing I was willing to get 'better' would help me get out of here quicker.

Ms Lockhart smiled once more and stepped out of the cubicle, pulling the curtain that surrounded my bed closed so no one would be able to see me changing.

I slid off the bed, my feet landing on the floor soundlessly. I took the pair of white pants from the bed where I had placed them, and slipped them on one leg at a time, pulling them up underneath my gown so they sat around my narrow waist. They had a tendency to fall down slightly because I was quite thin. I had not eaten very much since I was first admitted. I was constantly picking at my food, trying to find the stuff that did not look poisoned, only to decide that it was better if I only ate the vegetables.

I grabbed the cord that ran through the waistband of the pants, roughly tying it into a small bow. It was odd and stupid of them to allow pants with a cord in the ward. Someone (probably either Demyx or me) could quite easily pull out the cord and try to strangle themselves with it.

I could hear my psychiatrist talking with the blonde nurse from earlier. Blondie was telling her about my little outburst. I heard her "mm" in reply. I knew the nurse was talking about the incident so the Organization could use it against me. I tried to ignore them.

Next, I unfolded the t-shirt Ms Lockhart had given me, pulling it over my head. My arms were in so much pain, I was almost in tears. The doctors said my arms were just about healed or something. Like hell they were.

"Zexion, are you done?" Ms Lockhart called out from the other side of the curtain. Without waiting for a response, she pulled back the curtain and eyes me suspiciously. "You took an awfully long time."

I looked up at her coolly, ignoring the fact that she barged in without waiting for an "okay" from me. "Of course you would know how long I took. After all, you are recording my every move." I stated.

She shook her head and sighed. "Zexion, as I have said many times before, you are sick. This conspiracy you seem so intent on believing is nothing more than a delusion your mind has created. That's why you're here, to get better."

"I would rather believe the 'delusions' than listen to the crap coming out of your mouth," I spat, venom in my voice.

The chocolate eyed woman started walking away and motioned for me to come with her. I followed, a little weary. What if she was not going to take me to the ward? What if she was really escorting me to a high security prison for experiments like me? But I figure, if that happens, then he will just have to help me escape. He would probably degrade me in the process, but he will get me out of there.

"You would help me escape, right?" I whispered, knowing that only he could hear me as I trailed after my psychiatrist.

"_Of course. You're too useless to help yourself. That's why I always devise the plans and give you the info. However, you're the reason my brilliant ideas fail, because you can't do anything right. You're pathetically redundant," _he pointed out.

I frowned and tuned him out as he went on about how about how wonderful he was and how I should hurry up and kill myself properly.

Ms Lockhart and I walked alongside each other, silently thinking to ourselves. She was still grinning (God, does that woman not have any other expression?) and holding a thick folder to her chest. The folder was probably filled with information about me; about my behaviours, and thoughts, and so called 'delusions'.

We came up to an elevator, and stopped. The dark haired woman pressed the second button which had an almost completely peeled off '2' stuck on. Humming a cheery tune, I saw her glance at me out of the corner of her eye. I was scowling at her. Maybe she would realise that I do not want to be put into the psychiatric ward again. But then again, she was an oblivions moron who most likely worked for _them_.

There was a 'ding' and the doors of the lift opened wide. The two of us entered just before the doors closed again. The elevator was massive on the inside, which was probably so people who were bed-ridden could be wheeled from floor to floor with ease. Either way, I hated to be in these things. I could feel the camera in one of the top left corners watching me. I know that it was only there to keep an eye of me. I wish I had something I could throw at it to break it.

"It's only there to protect you." Ms Lockhart assured me calmly.

I scoffed. Sure, of course. I am being watched for my own protection. Certainly not to aid the experiments being conducted on me. "Don't think you can deceive me. I will not fall for you terrible persuasion techniques."

She chuckled (seriously, stop laughing and smiling so much!).

The door opened and she exited the lift, taking the lead as she guided me to the ward. We were just about to enter when she got a message on her pager. She checked it and then looked at me. "Sorry Zex, I gotta go. Emergency. Just ask one of the nurses to let you in." She rushed off the way we came.

This was it. That stupid woman had left me all alone. Now was my chance to escape this prison and be free to fight the forces of the Organization. Hopefully no one will notice me and stop me as I make my escape.

I turned on my heel and began to sneak away from the ward's entrance. But, alas, it was not my day and lady luck was not on my side (not that she ever was). One of the nurses, who I recognised because he worked behind the desk of at the ward, was standing behind me. His deep booming voice echoed in my head. I was not going to allow his appearance to affect my get away.

Without looking behind me I tried to run. But he grabbed the back of my t-shirt firmly before I could move. I attempted to pull away. And when he tugged me toward him I started to kick and scream. I knew I was acting like a child, but I desperately needed to be free. I couldn't be under their influence any more.

He dragged me through the sliding door which he unlocked with his key card.

"_Let them do what they want. If you want to get out of her you have to obey." _The invisible man that only I could hear reminded me.

He was right. So I calmed down, took a few deep breaths, and apologised to the nurse. "Sorry." I mumbled.

The tall nurse smiled and ruffled my hair. He walked off, back into the office area.

I fixed my top and yawned. Now was the time to rest, because I was incredibly tired. And my arms felt like they would fall off. I decided that going to my room would be the best option.

I walked by the dining hall, and past the music room, heading toward my allocated room. Maybe I would go to the group activities tomorrow, but certainly not today. My arms throbbed and itched. I was, believe it or not, partially regretting the attempt to kill myself. Then again, I still saw the attempt as a good idea because I really needed to get out of this world that _they_ had set up for me. I needed to be free.

As I was just about to turn the corner, Naminé ran past quickly with a terrified expression on her face. This got me curious. I wondered what had happened. Had the Organization dome something to her? Choosing to investigate further instead of sleeping, I wandered away from my previous direction, and instead headed toward the end of the hall where I could see Demyx, a tall redhead, and a very distressed looking Roxas.

**A/N: Okay, so you might have been expecting it to be Roxas' PoV. But, I felt that I needed to bring back Zexion. Don't know why I felt like that, I just did. Lol. Anyway, I promise that the next chapter will be about Roxas and what was going through his head at the end of chapter 4. Hope you enjoyed and please review. Also, if there is anything I got wrong about the way the characters behave based on their illnesses, please tell me. I want to make it as accurate as possible. ^_^**


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